What to Understand from Pixar’s Animated Short, Bao
Coming-of-age stories teach us how to grow. We commend the protagonist for his/her bravery to defy all odds. More often than none, it is at the expense of straining personal relationships to understand one’s needs, especially in going against their parents’ wishes. In 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), Kat wants to attend Sarah Lawrence, defying her father’s wishes to attend an in-state college, University of Washington. Similarly, Ladybird (2017) is about a young Catholic school girl who also wants to move out of Sacramento, California for college, but her mother cannot bare to let her daughter go. These stories remind us of our ongoing fights with our parents to attain our independence and freedom to live without their constant surveillance.
Pixar’s new animated short film, Bao, directed by Domee Shi, puts a spin on traditional coming-of-age stories with a heartfelt twist. A Chinese mother experiences empty nest syndrome, a state of loneliness when children grow up and leave home, and personifies a little baozi as her son. She pours her unconditional love and overprotection to shield her child away from any perceived danger. But when the baozi starts to grow up, he emotionally distances himself away from his mother and moves out of the house to start a new life. The Chinese mother is heartbroken, remembering all the memories and attachment she shared with her son.
My examples presented above thematically relate to Bao, but I know one will argue that the protagonists mainly differ because of race. And that is precisely what I want to point out.
10 Things I Hate About You and Ladybird are two of my favorite movies that I can relate to as a young woman growing up in Los Angeles. Both films have strong female roles that have taught me a lot about female empowerment and my personal agency.
However, what I have yet to see is a culturally relevant story that perfectly depicts my Asian-American upbringing.
In the final moments of Bao, I have never felt so much guilt and sadness to imagine my mother as the protagonist. I felt her loneliness, her nostalgia, and her longing for me to return home. Things I never thought about because I was preoccupied with making the most out of college.
I was once the little baozi who was attached to her mother and followed her wherever she went. When college rolled around, I became more like the adult baozi who wanted her independence. The Chinese mother looked out the door to watch her son take off with his friends, and a montage follows to show how her days become empty without him. I felt that hurt, and I think this was a story that made me understand my mother even more.
Bao received mixed reviews from the internet. Much of the film’s reviews are deliberately moronic, utilizing dry irony to mock the film’s foreignness. They also lack basic critical thinking skills to understand the little baozi as a personification of the mother’s son, and as a meaningful piece of art.
They’re used to movies like 10 Things I Hate About You and Ladybird because as long as “diversity” features an actress who is white and a a typical American storyline, that is the extent viewers can accept diversity on screen.
What these new audiences neglect to see is that being American comes in all shapes and sizes.
Asian-Americans have, for so long, seen ourselves in leading white roles. To see a film like Bao, is riveting.
It is a breath of fresh air to watch an animated short that intimately explains what being Asian-American is all about. First and foremost, the generational differences between parents and children is the hallmark of our culture. Our parents were the first to immigrate to the states who carried along their values and selfless sacrifices to provide a new life for their children.
As the first generation of American-born children, we grow up taking our parents’ sacrifices for granted. And I think that is what the feeling of guilt elicited as a raw moment of the film. It’s a feeling that I know many Asian-Americans experience and by watching Bao, it prompts us to hug our parents and thank them for all that they do. Just like in the resolution between the Chinese mother and when her son returns home.
We are ECSTATIC to see our culture represented on screen in such a poignant way.
The director deals with these themes decisively, tackling the topics of the immigrant narrative and coming-of-age story to force children of Asian immigrants to recognize our entitlement and privilege we received through their selfless sacrifices.
It is through this narrative that paves the way for diverse and inclusive storytelling to be told. It is one thing to be diverse but also another to include female and POC directors.
I believe that the more we unapologetically showcase films like Bao, the more we can transition the inclusivity of cultural acceptance on the big screen.
Thank you, Pixar.
Thank you, Mom.
